DA: Blinded
by Darwin
Summary: The Red Series is back and after Max, using Logan as the bait. Will she fall into the trap? Will she be able to save Logan? Repost with more material
1. Prologue

DA: Blinded

This is set first season just prior to the second showing of the Red Series Soldiers.

I have always been bugged by the fact that I put this all up as one chapter (It was before I knew that the story could be chaptered). Anywhooo…This is a revamped and beefed up version of the story. You will note slight changes to the story line as I progress, being that this was my first such Fanfic, it was very short and again I was unhappy with it's length and some of the descriptive that I left in the story. 

Again as I said with After the Fire, if you are new, Welcome, if you are returning, Welcome Back. Please read and review! That is how I learn!

Gotta Bounce!

Darwin

PROLOGUE:

A shadowy figure stood in the dim light of a vandalized phone booth, its broken panes keeping neither the damp winter fog nor the breath of the cutting wind from embracing his form. The wind found its way into his dark overcoat tugging incessantly at the sash pulled tightly about his waist, cutting through the lighter clothing underneath to chill his skin. The drops of moisture clung to him as the fog flowed over him in wispy clumps, making his countenance shine with reflected radiance from the somehow still functioning light in the booth. The light barely illuminated his features, only significant by his stark red hair and matching beard and mustache. To a passerby he would have seemed ordinary. If any had bothered to look closer, however, there was a set to his body and a look in his brilliant blue eyes that pegged him as a predator, a soldier.

He seemed to feel neither the wind, nor the damp as he hurriedly dialed a number into the sticky keypad and put the receiver to his ear covered with a handkerchief that he had produced from one inner pocket. Who knew what the people on the street might do to them? He froze in place as he listened to the line ring on the other end. He might have been a statue but for the frosty breath that escaped from his nose regularly, and the darting of his slightly bug eyes that showed his impatience. 

His voice was cool and steady as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line, ice cold and another giveaway of his nature, "The lead I spoke of last has panned out. We were able to retrieve two phone numbers from the prototype's pager."

A voice on the other end must have spoken then for he paused for long moments listening, "Yes we've tracked the numbers and both of them are here in the city. The team is set up on each address now," Another pause, "No, even divided they should be able to handle her if she shows. They will move in within the hour."

The other end of the conversation had been satisfied, and the man nodded once though the party on the other end couldn't see it. He slowly hung up the phone without another word, stepped out of the booth.

He glanced back as a towering figure joined him by the booth. The man was slightly balding with blue eyes that reflected the same predator agenda. His face was littered with scars covering his stern chin and high cheekbones. That marred face did not reflect any emotion at all, but exuded confidence and patience. He was wearing a black leather jacket, seeming to ignore the several holes already marring the material. The jacket was halfway unzipped and there were straps that were a dead giveaway to several gun holsters hidden beneath that heavy jacket. The outfit did nothing to hide the man's prominent shoulder width or the arm muscles straining against the leather.

"Orders?" The man's deep voice uttered, though only his eyes were turned toward the much shorter man.

"We go in," The smaller man said, sounding excited at the prospect, "One or both know her, and we're going to find out just who and how well."

The balding man nodded minutely and they looked in unison up toward the towering high rise shrouded in the fog, the smaller man smiling wickedly.


	2. Too Much Time

CHAPTER ONE: Too Much Time.

Logan sat back from his monitor, stretched and looked at his watch sighing. The information net was amazingly slow on tips and information for him tonight. In fact it had been slow the last several days. He smiled ironically, the world was still broken he knew, but its problems were festering undiscovered tonight. He leaned over and put his system on standby, set to alert him should anyone send something later, then backed away from his desk. He wheeled himself toward the kitchen feeling listless. Nights like this drove him to the edge of his sanity.

Bling had said his adieus several hours ago, just after giving Logan a therapy session. Logan laughed silently; sometimes he wondered if Bling's area of expertise lay in physical or mental therapy. Lord knew Bling gave him enough advice on his emotional state. Logan was always forced to sit there as Bling stretched his atrophying leg muscles, and gave him his honest opinion of Logan's mental health. During sit ups there were the tips about things he could do to keep his mind off what bugged him. That was funny because that always made him think on it harder. Weight lifting held the sage observations of some cure currently in the works. By the time Bling had left for his date Logan felt more and not less stressed out. Echoes of that stress were still with him now, some fourty-five minutes later, and it was part of the reason that he felt so edgy.

Ironically Logan was wishing he had a date himself, something to get him out of this suddenly claustrophobic apartment, and to get his mind of his internal worries. His mind drifted to thoughts of Max, and the possibilities that had peeked through their "Working relationship". Was that quickly fanning flame just his imagination or was there really something to it? She had thrown some hints his way, things that suggested that she found him attractive. But with Max it was always hard to tell just when she was being serious and when she was putting a shine on.

He would have loved to invite her over even if it was just to talk, but Max was also on hiatus. Logan having nothing for her to investigate, she decided that she wanted a night out with the girls, or her own headspace or something along those lines. He frowned slightly wishing he had a reason to give her a call and invite her over… wishing he had a reason to go out and join her in whatever fun she was deciding to have. Tonight was a night that he could really use some social company. Intruding on her time was not something that she took well, he had given her precious little of it lately with all the assignment that he had found for her to do. But still, there was no one he wanted there more than she was right now. His frown deepened as he remembered that he had no way to reach her even if he could think up an excuse. Her pager had been lost when she was protecting Bruno and she had yet to replace it. That cut her off from him, so unless she was to call, there would be no way for him to relay his wish for her to come over. Unless... 

"Hello?" A raspy female voice on the other end answered.

"OH... hey Kendra," Logan said self consciously scratching his head as he always did when he felt uncomfortable, "It's Logan. Is Max there?"

"No," she replied drawing out the word and sounding smug, "She's not back from work yet."

"Oh," He said sounding disappointed, "You guys still going out tonight?" He asked hoping she would say no.

"Yeah, we're gonna bounce to Crash, if she ever gets home. Anything specific she should know?" Kendra asked pointedly.

Logan paused a little too long, "Uh, no," He said finally regaining his composure, "Thanks, just tell her I called."

"Will do," He heard Kendra say, swearing he heard her say "Loverboy" just before the line disconnected.

He bit his lip as he ended the call, "So much for that idea," He slowly returned his receiver to the base and wheeled to the large bay window looking out and down at the fog obscuring the streets well below him. Vertigo overwhelmed him for a moment and he had to consciously make himself breathe. He automatically backed his chair away from the window as if it would open up and drag him out into the abyss. For long moments all he could hear was his heart pounding in his ears.

"Why the hell do you live in the penthouse?" Logan asked himself. 

"Because it's the best digs in town, and you can afford it." Another voice inside his head said.

It was a converted studio. When he had bought the place you could walk in the door and see every wall of the perimeter. The wood grain finish of the walls was already present, but no rooms had been defined. The only thing that had any definition to begin with was the kitchen, and he had even upgraded that, Culinary Miracles would never had been possible with the facilities that this place had come with. He had cured that shortly thereafter, contracting to erect walls some of the same wood grain finish and others of corrugated glass. It had been done exactly to his specification, ordering the chaos of space around him. All in all the improvements gave the penthouse a very nice open feel without getting lost in open space. The wood grain wall and smoked glass dividers helped to give the room a light homey feeling. The heights given to such a large and expensive place didn't bother him most of the time, because most of the time he didn't even look out the windows or at least down out of the windows.

Another night alone... he sighed heavily. Used to be that he lived for time to himself, especially just after his marriage ended. It had given him time to set himself right, to read a book, to study or to research for an Eyes-Only broadcast. He really enjoyed the silence and the clarity of thought that came with a solitary life. He had been a loner for a long time, crowds making him edgy and nervous. It was one of the reasons he had become a cyber-journalist, anyone that he had to deal with was always out of sight. The times that he did have to go out were always in a small party or to meet with a solitary contact in the middle of nowhere. Yes solitude had always helped back then. But that was before. Now being alone only gave him too much time to think about what had happened to him. 

He had always been highly independent, a man in control of his life and where he was going. He had been confident in his work and sure that nothing would happen. He had been proven wrong, no one is control of his or her lives. One moment's decision had placed him in the crossfire, desperately trying to protect a material witness, trying to do what was right, and what he believed in. And that had cost him the use of his legs. Shattered spine, shredded nerves, and no hope of ever walking again. That had been the bitter hand that life had dealt him. 

The pressure had been building up inside of him ever since. All of his shortcomings were bundled up in that one not so neat package. That pressure was now dangerously close to the surface like an abscess ready to pop. This was especially heady after coming face to face with Bruno, the scum that had put him in this chair. He had told Max that he had "Wrapped his head around it" and that she could as well, but it was not entirely true. It was amazing just how taken for granted walking was, until the ability was lost. That realization ate at him every day, how he had to rely on Bling, on Max, to do the footwork that he no longer could. It had been proved to him time and again just how vulnerable he really was outside the confines of this house. All for one simple decision, to go on his own to protect another's life.

He had done an outstanding macho job of hiding his pain from Max, letting her believe that he was fine with his current condition. She had believed, or at least chose to let him lie to her about moving through his pain. Bling on the other hand saw right through it, he knew just how much Logan was hurting inside, how much his pride was bruised. He was right to say that Logan needed to scream, but his pride kept him silent, he would not lose control now, not when so much control of his life had been taken from him. 

Logan laid his hands on his knees making fists as useless as the legs themselves, closing his eyes and fighting down his anger and frustration. They came up and slammed back down onto his legs, willing them to feel the impact. Nothing, he felt the vibration of the impact as the sensation hit his still working nerves. Yet those two stumps of flesh and bone below his waist felt nothing, and would never feel anything again.

"Max..." he thought with a stab of mental pain. She was so beautiful, so intriguing to him. He was again struck by the subtle hints tossed his direction by her lately. He knew they both felt something for each other stronger than a partnership stronger than friendship. But there was no way... 

Logan was careful to keep her at arm length unsure if her feelings for him were genuine, or based out of pity and guilt, "What could she possibly see in me when she could have anyone?" He thought remorsefully. 

There was an intimidation factor, something Logan could only admit when he was by himself. She was smart, and strong, and though his intelligence nearly matched hers, the idea that she was physically stronger than he was even if he was not confined the chair was, to say the least, daunting. He tended to feel more insignificant for that fact in their partnership, and that bled over tainting how he felt for her. He was not even necessary for Max to survive in this world, she had managed ten years on her own without any assistance from him. Why would she feel anything toward him except for guilt, about what she felt she was responsible?

Logan's head came up as he heard the soft muffled chime of the elevator just beyond his door. The sound brought him quickly out of his cloud of self-pity. Straightening he turned his chair, heading for the hall. He brightened thinking that it might be Max paying him a visit prior to her night out. Perhaps she knew what he was feeling, how down he must be with nothing to move his mind to other things.

"I think our psychic link is working tonight…" He joked to himself. He turned the corner headed for the door, proved sorely wrong as it exploded inward.


	3. Invasion

Chapter 2: Invasion

The two tall men walked silently into the door, a stark contrast to the Kaleidoscope of motion, color, and sound that was a typical day at Jam Pony. They were tall, probably six foot three, older, and heavily built. Both of their faces were hard and unforgiving and their steely gazes moved over the couriers in silent assessment. Both were dressed in similar dark outfits, slacks, dark shirts and leather jackets. They paused for a moment just short of Normal's desk. They took very little notice of those that passed them up, not even flinching at the inevitable impacts with some of the couriers. Several of those who chanced to run into the two nearly fell in reaction to their unmoving forms. The stern looks seemed to deepen into frowns as they stepped forward again in unison.

Normal had taken immediate notice of the two as they entered, even if the moron's working for him had not. Everyone else just plied around their large forms as if they were two more of the pillars running down the center of the building. Such as water avoiding stones in a stream.

"Can I help you, gentleman?" He asked as they strode by his desk, heading toward the locker rooms in the back. They had not even acknowledged Normal's snide attempt at courtesy. Normal's usual frown deepened at being ignored. Undaunted by their size or their demeanor, he slid out from behind the desk to confront the two of them, "Excuse me," he said in his sternest "talking to a moron" voice. He cut around them standing stiffly before them as they came to a reluctant halt, "If you have business here, then I'm the man you need to see."

The two men paused momentarily, looked at each other, then back at Normal, and in unison they both pushed him to the floor. The impact was a resounding crack followed by the thud of Normal's body as he contacted the deck. Normal slid several feet before stopping with a thud against the workers lockers. Everyone stopped in their tracks as all eyes turned to where Normal lay and then to the two men standing like stone in the middle of Jam Pony's lobby. 

Several nearest the door took this as a bad omen and made a hasty exit not wanting to be there when it went down. Original Cindy slowly stood from where she had been sitting on the couch and painting her nails. Her mouth hung slightly open and her eyes had widened just a bit at the sight of Normal sliding across the floor to nearly knock himself out on the lockers. 

Now she was not a fan of Normal, and she loved to push his buttons just to hear the gears in his head grind, but even he had not deserved that. Waving her hands several more times to ensure the latest coat of polish had dried she moved cautiously to Normal's side. He was adjusting the glasses on his face as she stooped down next to him.

"What's the Dealio with the Terminator rejects?" She whispered as she helped Normal to his feet. Normal was struck speechless at the assault and Original Cindy, shaking her head, moved him over to the couch she had just come from, "Time to blow this scene," she muttered under her breath. She straightened and turned back toward the two men, beyond which the door beckoned her. She stepped forward but the man nearest her stopped her advance. The grip on her shoulder tightened, quickly becoming painful, "OK," she said as if it was no big deal, throwing up her hands, "I didn't have anyplace to go anyway..." and turned around and sat on the couch next to Normal's stunned form.

The larger of the two men nodded toward the other and they split up presumably to search the premises for what they were after. No one inside of Jam Pony dared to move, fearful of the two strange men who had trapped them at work. Original Cindy wondered why, they couldn't be fast enough to catch them if they decided to leave. But even she was not willing to test that theory. Several minutes later they both returned as if the move was choreographed. Both indicated silently that their search had proved fruitless.

One finally broke the eerie silent communication between them to say, "What now?"

The other looked over at the few riders still in the building, "We wait, someone here knows her."

The large one turned to the couch and picked Normal up again, "Back to work..." he said in a low threatening voice before pushing him back toward his station behind the desk. Normal looked at him belligerently but did what he was told. Slowly as if he was in pain, Normal resumed his place behind the desk. He retrieved his headset and replaced it in his ear. All the while his eyes never left the two dark figures inky blots amongst the floral colored clothes decorating the area around them.

Max rode hard toward the Jam Pony office. She was already behind schedule from her last run, "Damn Normal...Figures he'd give me a run half an hour before the end of my shift, and four sectors away to boot," she grumbled under her breath. It was already dark and this was cutting into her playtime! She thought again about telling Normal to stick this job in his ear and walk (or ride in this case). But she knew she wouldn't she was too proud to try and live of the charity of others, as Normal so eloquently put it. She sighed, she was sure that Logan would help her out until she got back on her feet, "Right like you want him to have anything more to hang over your head," she thought smirking.

She had found herself cheating, cutting into some deserted back alley and testing the limits of her Manticore stamina and speed. The buildings moved by her in a blur, and she had only microseconds to swerve and avoid the trash strewn in the alleys and avoid a spectacular crash at the speed she was going. The chain and the wheels whined in protest at the speed at which they were being forced to operate much beyond their tested rating. It was exhilarating, like escape and evade, but much more interesting. She would slow to normal human speed at the sight of someone else. The only thing that dampened the joy of the ride was the pressing time limit that was going to make her late, no matter how fast she rode to return home.

Max knew that she was going to miss the rendezvous with Original Cindy and Kendra, for their Ladies Night Out at Crash. She sighed, "I finally get a night off as Eyes Only personal investigator only to get slammed at work, was I born under a bad sign or what?" Her two best friends probably already pegged her as a no-show and went to Crash without her. She shrugged to no one, oh well she would just catch up with them there and say better late than never. They would understand, Max knew, though she would have to gripe about it for while just to make herself feel better. Damn him, he was such a thorn in her side.

She rounded the next bend and hung a left into the entrance of Jam Pony sliding to a perfect stop in front of Normal's desk. She looked up as she righted her bike again, ready to read him the riot act for the callous, last minute assignment when she got a good look at his face. Alarms rang in her head at the sight of him. Normal was pale and sweating, and there was a fresh bruise rising on his right temple that had not been there when she left. Only then did she realize just how quiet it was in the office. She looked around noticing that no one was moving through the place as if they had to be somewhere yesterday, even at this hour that was unusual. People who worked for Jam Pony just did not hang out after hours to be social. With Normal as a boss they left as soon as was possible.

Her eyes moved over the gathered crowd of riders and locked on Original Cindy, who looked just as scared as Normal did. What was going on here?

Max's gaze shifted again as movement caught her eye. Her heart dropped to her shoes, it was two of the South African Soldiers that had almost captured her the month prior. She had gotten away only because of Logan. Somehow he had figured out that she was in trouble and showed up like a knight on a white charger and pulled her fat from the fryer.

Her first instinct was to stand and fight... but she was unwilling to expose her fighting prowess to those she worked with. If they saw that she would never be able to work here again, "That point may be moot anyway," she thought sardonically. After all they would surely figure out that these two were after her and there would be some hard questions to answer. How would she explain that? 

Normal would probably attribute it to her total delinquency in his eyes, assuring himself that she was in some shady business on the side. Telling himself that these guys were here to collect money she owed to some thug. Little did he know…as outrageous as that sounded it was nowhere near as outrageous as the truth.

Max decided quickly, turning tail and running, listening as the bike hit the ground as she cleared the door. The two soldiers were in hot pursuit behind her, their heavy footfalls closing the head start she had taken. She could hear the collective in drawing of breath from her co-workers and Original Cindy yelling encouragement at her back. If only she knew.

Max did not retreat far, turning to face her assailants after only two blocks. She assumed her best fighting stance watching with a thudding heart as the two of them rounded the corner and rushed toward her.

"I guess these two didn't learn their lesson," she whispered under her breath. Her heart dropped as she found herself wondering where the other one was. She chanced a quick glance around her half expecting the third soldier to be rushing her from the opposite direction. There was no one there. Quickly she turned her attention back to the others closing the ground between them.

Max held her ground until they were nearly on top of her. As the first reached her, she rolled to one side, jumping to her feet next to the soldier. She kicked out sideways before he could react to her proximity, catching him in the knee and she watched him buckle even as the sickening pop echoed off the close walls. He did not seem to feel it trying to regain his feet only to fail when his knee would not support him. The scene appalled her, wondering why he would not stay down with what should have been an excruciating injury. Something Logan had told her about these guys surfaced in her mind. They were possessed of short-circuited pain receptors and super adreanlized bodies, they felt no pain, and they could take several bullets and remain able bodied. They could die without ever feeling their wounds. 

"Well he ain't doing much fighting on that knee," she thought and turned her concentration to the remaining adversary. 

This Red moved more cautiously closing the gap but staying out of range of her attack. His eyes narrowed as he assessed her abilities looking for a weakness in her fighting style. Max quickly tired of them circling each other in the middle of this dank, smelly alley and stepped into the danger zone, lashing out with a foot. He feinted to one side avoiding the blow, and before Max knew what had happened he had wrapped her foot in both hands. He twisted her foot, giving he no choice but to move with her foot rather than allow him to break her ankle. The move served to roll her whole body, and as soon as her opposite foot cleared the ground, he lifted up and threw her down the alley. She landed hard crumpling against one wall, but she pushed up quickly knowing that he was bearing down on her. Max executed a flip with a half twist to end up behind him, following the maneuver with a kick that caught him square in the small of the back sending him sprawling instead. 

Max wrestled with her conscience for a few moments as she approached the down soldier. She didn't want this guy tailing her until she was captured. He was beginning to get to his feet again, and she made a hard decision. She reached down grabbing the back of his head and his chin and twisted quickly listening to the sickening crack as his neck broke. She stepped back as his body slumped to the ground again as she life left him, feeling dirty somehow for breaking the promise she had made to herself about not directly killing. Feeling nauseated she listened to him gasping for air.

Max looked over to the other soldier knowing she should do the same to him. The thought brought a fresh wave of nausea and she found herself revolted by the prospect. "Some supersoldier you are!" The thought pinged through her head in Lydecker's voice, "Can't even stoop to finishing the enemy!" She shook her head vigorously to get that phrase out. 

Max looked down and away from the soldier still trying to get Lydecker to stop talking in her head when she saw something between her and the soldier that she recognized. She walked over and picked it up. Her Pager...The casing was covered with a myriad of cracks and many of the internal components were exposed. Why would they have her pager? Then something occurred to her. Original Cindy had contacted her shortly before the incident with the Reds. That was how they had found Jam Pony. But so had…Max gasped.

FLASHBACK:

Logan's voice over the phone: "Hey I've been paging you all morning."

"Little run in at the hotel. Had to bail in a hurry and left my pager."

Present:

"Logan..." she whispered fearfully.


	4. Assault

Chapter 3: Assault

Logan stopped in his tracks two feet from the entrance to his Penthouse the sound of the splintering door still fading in his stunned ears. With quick reactions he backed the way he had come, returning to his study. There he grabbed his pistol, taking only enough time to ensure it was loaded, then pushing hard on the wheels, feeling as if they were going too slow from reverse to forward he headed for the bedroom. He chanced a glance over his shoulder as he reached the bedroom door. He did not see his assailants yet, there was still a cloud of smoke obscuring the front of his apartment. He rolled through the door and deftly switched direction pulling on the door as he did. Gritting his teeth he quietly shut the door behind watching down the hall until it latched. He backed his chair along the wall until he was against the adjacent one, facing the side that the intruder would have to enter the bedroom through. There he waited, half hidden in the shadows waiting. That was a hard thing to do, knowing that no help was on the way. He couldn't even phone for help, it was in the other room. The only thing that he could hope for was someone to have heard the explosion and made the call for him.

His heart was racing as he thought about the implications of this intrusion. There were those out there who had been looking for Eyes Only for years. It was not hard to make enemies when you did what Logan did. This world was ruled by too many underhanded men for the truth to be a comfortable thing. Those same people would do extreme things to stop the truth from coming out. 

What if this was one such party…looking to shut him down for good? There was a huge file of contacts within his computer that some crook would be all too happy to get a hold of. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth realizing that he had no time to dump his files. His informant net was going to be compromised, and that could mean the death of many of the people who had trusted him to keep their secrets and their identities safe. Logan knew this day would come sooner or later, Eyes Only couldn't remain anonymous forever. That didn't leave him prepared for the reality of it now that it was happening.

Logan took a deep breath trying to calm his heart. A part of him hoped that was all that they had come here for. Reminding him that there were other precautions in place to keep unwanted eyes out of his computer. Firewalls and passwords with encrypting in them to keep anyone but him out. It would take a hacker with better ability than his own to decrypt the information. But if they had come here to shut Eye's Only himself down…That was another matter. 

He had been the driving force behind a lot of change, convincing some of even the most reluctant people to testify, or to give over damaging information to help bring a crook in. If he went down, the network would be crippled, there were few others with the nerve for what he did on a day to day basis, fewer still of those who had the contacts to make the operation come off. Or perhaps he was giving himself too much credit. He shook his head negatively in the dark, no, no he wasn't. The informant net would die without him to support it.

Logan took another breath, he wasn't going down without a fight, that was for sure. Then he looked down at his white knuckled hands wrapped tightly around the grip of his nine-millimeter. It was the same one he had tried to give Max some time back, one that she had refused to take. He still didn't understand her aversion to guns, she was as soldier after all, and guns pretty much came with the job. Something had happened when she was in Manticore and he hoped that one day she would explain it to him. 

He closed his eyes silently wishing that Max were here right now to help repel this invasion, with or without guns. 

Logan's eyes returned to the door as the footsteps neared it, steeling himself he raised his gun aiming at a spot that should be level with the chest of whoever came through the door. He held his breath as the doorknob turned in slow motion and the door opened inward. Logan reacted with the reflexes of someone who had been on the run too long. The figure in the door lurched sideways as two bullets hit home in his chest and abdomen. Logan's eyes widened when the man did not go down. The man slowly straightened and turned to face Logan still half-hidden by the shadows closing on his position. 

Logan got a good look at the man as he walked through a pale beam of moonlight from outside. He recognized the soldier even as he was firing. Max had been on the run from something that she had not encountered before, when Logan had first gotten a good look at him. In his research to find out who her newest foes were Logan was able to get video from the hotel where Max had been hiding Bruno. The man who was now before him had punched through a solid steel elevator door without a thought. This man was one of the Disposable Soldiers from the South African Army. 

Terror and relief ran a parallel course through his brain at that realization. The informant net was safe…that would not be what he was here for. Yet somehow they had linked him with Max and were probably here to find her. It begged the question…how they had tracked Max to him? The answer loomed in his mind even as the Red towered over him... Max's lost pager. Somehow they must have recovered it at the hotel and extracted his number from the memory. This was not good!

Before Logan could get out of the Soldiers way he clapped one hand against Logan's wrist and the other halfway up his forearm, knocking the gun away from him. Logan cried out as something in his arm snapped. Rising, the soldier backhanded Logan so hard that it toppled his chair and sent him sprawling across the floor. His legs were tangled up behind him putting his entire upper body weight on his injured arm. He grit his teeth in pain, unable to breathe much less get off of his arm. His cheek stung terribly where the fist had contacted his face and he felt a warm trickle of blood running down the left side of his nose. The soldiers hit had shattered his glasses and they had cut him before flying across the room. 

He felt a rough hand lift him completely off the floor by the collar. Once in the air the grim figure turned Logan to face him, wrapping a viselike hand around his throat. The pressure of his grip steadily increased until Logan could not breathe and novas were exploding in his vision. He futilely grabbed the soldier's wrist with his left hand trying to break the grip before he lost consciousness. His right arm dangled uselessly at his side, pounding with jolting pain. Just as he was about to pass out, someone he couldn't see said, "Stop!"

The gargantuan holding Logan turned slightly, affording him a blurry look at the other intruder. He was a shorter man of medium build with red hair and a neatly trimmed beard. 

"We need him alive," The man said coldly. That told Logan that it was only conditional on them getting what they wanted. After that his life was expendable. The man's grip eased on Logan's throat and he gasped drawing ragged breaths down his bruised throat. The man carried Logan by the lapel to the living room and tossed him casually onto his sofa like so much garbage. The force of it nearly toppled the couch onto its back. Logan glared at the two of them as he awkwardly straightened into a sitting position. He cradled his surely broken arm as a new round of pain shot up through his shoulder locking the muscles in his neck. 

"What do you want?" Logan ground out when the pain had ebbed enough to allow him to breathe.

"Shut up," The bigger man said glaring at Logan.

Logan looked at the shorter one, mad and just a bit embarrassed by the circumstance, "You break into my home, assault me... the least you can do is tell me why?" Logan retorted. He already knew that answer, they wanted Max, but he wanted to get these guys talking. 

The shorter man leaned into Logan's bruised face, and Logan flinched despite his want to do otherwise, "You either shut up or I will kill you myself."

Logan bit back the list of retorts that ran through his mind at that moment. This man meant business and he knew it. His normal acid sense of humor would only serve to get him killed if he did not watch his step. He turned his attention out the window trying not to think about what they had in store for him.

Logan raised his left-hand, palm up to look again at his watch, noting that an hour had already passed since the Red soldier had turned his Penthouse upside down and captured him. He had been forced to remove the watch from where it usually resided on his right wrist. His right arm had been steadily swelling since they had put him here, and it was now about two and a half times its normal size. Any movement of that limb brought about a round of excruciating pain. His head was swimming in pain, and his back was hurting from his position on the couch, which was pretty much the same as when he was thrown down here. He badly wanted to rearrange his legs to make at least his back more comfortable. There were two things stopping him from doing that however. The combination of his head and his arm had forced him to be still and had also forced him to draw as little attention to himself as possible. The soldiers tended to shove or hit him when he did, sending shock waves up his already pain-shredded nerves. The other was the thought that these two might misinterpret the move and end up shooting him without another thought. Logan certainly wanted to see the end of this ordeal.

They had not done much of anything short of hover over his battered form, expecting him to somehow miraculously walk and create some sort of problem. Occasionally they would converse with each other in another language, sometimes heatedly, pointing and gesticulating his direction. It was something that did not make him comfortable.

He had tried many times to get the soldiers to talk to him, to give him some sort of idea what they had in store for him, or why they wanted Max so badly. He knew better than to ask about Max directly. He was still trying to claim ignorance about why they were here, and letting that out of the bag would surely sink them both.

What he hoped beyond anything else right now, almost as much as he had wished her to come to his rescue earlier…he hoped that she would stay away. He cringed every time he heard the elevator move outside his shattered door, praying that it did not stop at his floor. The last thing he wanted was Max to walk unknowing into a trap these two had set for her.

"God Max, whatever you do don't show up now," He thought staring at the back of the larger soldiers head, and wishing there was something that he could do to fight back. Just then the phone rang and his heart sank.


	5. Treading Lightly

Chapter four: Treading Lightly

Logan's eyes darted to the phone where it lay on his computer desk ringing. He prayed with every fiber of his being that it was not Max. Be Margo, or Matt, or anyone else but her. He was so sure that they were after Max, the reason eluded him, even now, but his inventive mind could come up with some pretty wild possibilities. Something told him that his prayer was not going to be answered. So he sat listening to it ring unable to breath, heart thudding in his chest.

The two men looked at the phone and then to Logan, "Answer that," the larger one ordered.

"And keep it cool," The red head added. Logan had started calling him "Carrot Top" in his own mind, and it was all he could do to keep from smiling when he thought about it.

"Sorry," Logan replied with a falsely apologetic smile, "Can't... its over there and I'm over here… and my chair..." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, "It's in there." This was one time that he was glad to be able to use his disability as an excuse. Only…his Machine! If she identified herself his whole ruse would be sunk. Suddenly there was an overwhelming desire for the phone to be in his hand.

Carrot top glared at Logan acidly, then strode over to where the phone rang incessantly. Grabbing it off its holder he stormed back to where Logan sat slapping the phone hard into his chest.

Logan glanced up at the soldier towering over him as he took the phone, his heart thudding in his chest at the man's murderous look. Logan's mouth was a thin line, as he thought, "What the hell possesses you to antagonize people like that." 

Logan struggled to open the phone one-handed, all thumbs for his need to get it to his ear, when the answering machine took the call. He barely heard the greeting, angry that he had not been able to catch the call before the Machine broadcast it throughout the apartment. Now they were all going to know who the caller was going to be.

"Please don't be Max," He prayed silently.

"Logan!" Max shouted into the machine. Logan's jaw clenched tighter at the sound of her voice. Her voice sounded scared and worried, and a part of him wondered if she had not already run into some trouble of her own.

He glanced toward his two captor's who were watching every movement he made and tried to smooth out his expression so as not to give away what he knew…about them… and about his caller. "Don't say your name," He thought, "Just don't tell them who you are."

"Damn it! I know your home, pick up!"

Logan thumbed the button and put the phone up to his ear, "I'm here," He answered looking up at the man still towering over him, "What's up?" He asked letting some of his pain slip into his voice and praying Max picked it up. He wondered if she even had a clue about what was happening here. He glanced again at the soldiers hovering above him and hoped that they wouldn't notice his exaggerated voice even as his machine amplified it.

There was a long pause from Max's end of the conversation, "Logan," she said hesitantly, then her speech resumed a normal tone. It was suddenly just another phone conversation, "Are you OK? I came by work earlier and you weren't there," she add-libbed brilliantly.

"Yeah, nothing major," he lied, relieved that she had picked up on his hint, "Are you coming over later?" He asked, implying that she shouldn't.

"Maybe, depends on how kickin' the club is," She replied teasingly, "In fact I gotta bounce, they'll be expecting me."

"All right, hope you can stop by," Logan finished hanging up the phone. He hoped that she would take his hint for what it was worth and stay away. It was she, after all, which they wanted.

"Who was that?" carrot top asked suspiciously, suddenly in his face again. He snatched the phone out of Logan's hand, as if he might be brazen enough to try to make another call.

"A friend, why?" Logan inquired wondering if they would actually admit to wanting Max.

The man straightened the corners of his lips pulling down. He moved away from Logan and out of his sight. Logan tracked his progress through the place by the sounds of his footsteps.

"Nice place," He commented almost as if he meant it. Logan saw him again as he paused just outside his therapy room, looking at him. There was a queer smile on his face, and his eyebrows were steepled high over his cold blue eyes. His hands were clasped behind his back.

Logan smiled falsely, saying sarcastically, "Thanks, from you that means a lot." 

Carrot Top moved into the hallway momentarily and then into Logan's study. After many moments he heard, "This is quite a set up you have here... must have cost a bundle." There was a short pause and the silence was broken by the crash of one monitor hitting the floor.

"OK," Logan thought, taking a deep breath, "Its OK as long as they don't access anything."

Another crash soon followed the first, this time it sounded like his shelving unit where all of his recording equipment was set, "Shit," Logan thought. Logan chewed on the inside of his lip trying not to reflect on his face how important the equipment that the man was destroying was to Logan.

"So..." Carrot Top said peeking out of the doorway, "Who was on the phone?"

"Why?" Logan asked, "She's no one of importance to you. Just a girl, one of many, to tell the truth." He lied, trying on the playboy nonchalance that he had used so often when he was younger. It didn't sound very convincing in his own ears, and from the look on Carrot Top's face he was not convinced either.

"Call it my need to know," the man said angrily and disappeared back into the computer room. Several more items crashed to the ground and one of his CPU's bounced into the door leaving a scratch across the glass.

"Whatever," Logan answered and fell silent.

He looked over as the man's head popped out of Logan's study again, "Who was on the phone? Give me a name and it will be over that much quicker."

"She's just a friend," Logan said in what he hoped was a bland tone, "Her name is not important."

"More important than you think!" The man sneered, disappearing back into the study. The noise continued for sometime and Logan wondered just how small of pieces the man was breaking his equipment into. It nagged at him, causing him to wonder if he was going to be able to salvage any of his equipment when this guy got done with it. Eye's Only would be seriously in the hurt locker if he could not access the information residing in that CPU. His head was full of images of what his study must look like now. There were probably bits of wire, transistors, sensors, and circuit cards all over. What a mess, how much would it cost to replace?

"Boy are your priorities out of whack, Logan," He heard that voice inside him say, "So Eye's Only has been temporarily blinded. I would think you would be worried about it becoming blinded permanently. Worry about you and not the computers." 

Logan nodded to no one, feeling that tension ease in him, it suddenly didn't matter quite so much. The din continued, and the man kept asking for information on Logan's caller. He barely heard the man speak, and didn't really care to answer him anyway.

Logan mind slid away from the unpleasant reality that was happening in his study, and he became acutely aware then of just how uncomfortable that his position on the couch was becoming. Tiring of the cloak and dagger routine being played out by his unexpected guests and in urgent need of some relief for his lower back, he set down his good hand in an attempt to shift his body over. Logan had not even shifted his weight onto his arm when the larger man descended on him, pinning him with a forearm in the throat.

Carrot Top, evidentially hearing the commotion, returned from his tirade through the study, "What were you doing?" He asked sharply seeing his burly partner poised like a snake of Logan's form.

Logan looked to him now, noticing a bottle of his best pre-pulse Vintage under carrot tops left arm. Evidently he had made a pass through the kitchen, "Thanks for asking!" he wanted to say to the thug, but he knew better. Instead he replied in a low surly voice, "The parts of me that still feel are going to sleep. I need to reposition..." He smiled blinking several times, "If that's all right with you?" Logan returned to staring into the ice blue eyes of the man still trying to crush his throat with a thick forearm. The soldier shifted his gaze to his redheaded partner, who merely nodded. The larger one, looking unhappy about the prospect of letting Logan live another few minutes, never the less began to straighten. 

They both stood in arms reach watching Logan closely, still after all these hours expecting him to jump up miraculously and make a run for it. Logan waited long moments wanting some privacy to maintain at least a shred of his dignity. When they had not budged or even turned away after five minutes however, Logan figured they were not letting him out of their sight. With a sigh of resignation he went ahead with making himself more comfortable. It was a painfully slow process one handed. His right supported by the pillow he had propped under it, still screamed with pain at even the slightest movement. Several times during the excruciatingly slow process he wondered if it was even worth what he was now putting himself through. The worst part came when he needed to shift his legs over to better support his new position. Grabbing his pant leg just below the knee did nothing to shift the leaden weight of his foot. Taking a deep breath and bracing against the pain he leaned over further dragging his broken arm behind. He fought through the nova's that were exploding behind his eyes and the blackness that closed in on his consciousness as he methodically dragged each of his feet into a proper position. He was panting hard as he straightened back up, wanting to give in to the blackness that was nearer now. He shook his head again clearing the closing fog for another few moments. Took a bit of additional time to put his arm back in a position where it would not scream at him, then looked back up at them. When the pain finally subsided and his breathing had returned to normal he said, as much to ease his embarrassment as anything, "Sorry guy's, that's it, shows over. I'm a one trick pony. But hey, thanks for the help."

Something that was almost a smile touched Carrot Top's lips as he nodded his head to one side, motioning them toward the balcony. As he walked away, Carrot top popped the cork on his best wine and took a long swig of it before opening the door and stepping out onto the balcony, "Damn," Logan thought as he watched him, "He didn't even let it breath."


	6. As the Owl Flies

Hi! Thank you to all of you who have shown such support in the repost of this fanfiction! You guys have to be by far the greatest group of fans ever (No really!). I have had a really good time refurbishing this piece, and those of you who have read it before now know just how much better this version has turned out to be!

Is this the end of it… no…but I will be gone for a bit from posting…and it may be late next week before I can get back to it! I thought I would leave you all with one last piece of the puzzle before going to Vegas! (YEAH!! Wish me luck!)

This chapter in particular is heavily revamped, it was less than a page in length and I really had to do something to beef it up before I posted it for you. I hope that you like the additions! Please R&R and tell me what you think!

Again thanks for all the reviews! Talk to you again next week!

Darwin

CHAPTER 5: As the Owl Flies

Max rode the elevator anxiously bouncing on the balls of her feet in alarm. The freight elevator was less traveled and went farther up the building, but it made up for its convenience in the snail's pace it was taking to pass each floor. She looked again at the duffel bag that lay at her feet, going over her checklist of equipment mentally, and assuring herself that it was all still there. She had triple checked it at the house, checked it again twice on this ride. She knew that she had what she needed. That did not stop her, she had to make sure that this operation went over smoothly. If it didn't Logan was going to be on the losing end of the deal. She looked again at her watch noting that another two minutes had passed, bringing him that much closer to a violent end.

"Hurry up," She grumbled watching the indicator and counting precious seconds between floor changes.

After what seemed and eternity the elevator finally chimed for its final destination. The 37th floor was still three levels down from where she wanted to be but it was a heck of a lot faster than trying to hoof it. She burst through the doors before they had opened fully, and slinging her bag on her shoulder she flew up the first two sets of stairs leading to her destination…the roof. She was going to approach Logan's apartment from the building adjacent to it, the same as she did on the night that she and Logan had first met. 

It had only been a half an hour since she had talked to Logan. And as fast as she had gotten herself together she still felt as if she had wasted precious time in preparation. She finally cleared the last staircase, but more slowly opened the door leading to the air vent dotted top of the building. She crouched down sneaking nearer the ledge facing Logan's Tower. Max peeked slowly over the edge watching the corner for some signs of life. She saw no one moving on Logan's terrace and slowly straightened taking a good look at the neighboring roof looking for hidden snipers or other spies with orders to report her presence. She hoped fervently that they had not considered a roof approach. Again there proved to be no one lying in wait. Max decided it best to wait for awhile, and feel out the situation before rushing down there to save Logan. 

The wind buffeted her slight form mercilessly, changing direction almost constantly as if Mother Earth was indecisive. She clung, white knuckled with anxiety, as she leaned out over the edge of the roof. She was perfectly blended with the shadows around her, with her black leather outfit and dark hair framing her face as she looked down. It was a perfect vantagepoint, with one very annoying exception.

Her eyes were fixed on the penthouse now slightly below her current perch, "Damn Logan why did you have to have mirrored windows?" she thought. It was an aesthetic that was hindering her reconnaissance. There was this thing about privacy, an obsession actually, with these uptown complexes, "Like anyone is going to peep at them way up here," she found herself smiling at the irony of that thought, considering what she was doing.

She sobered quickly as she continued to survey the building. She was upset with herself, that she had been too late to warn Logan about the pager, and about the Red's. They had gotten to Logan before she could come and aid him in the defense of his home. It was apparent to her that the Reds were in Logan's place, but where they were holding him and just how many was still a mystery. 

It was eating at her to be sure that Logan was safe, the urge to rush in there and rescue him was almost overwhelming. She tamped that down, she had no idea whether or not the numbers in this group had remained constant. By her recollection there was the three soldiers and their red headed leader, but they may have sent for reinforcements the moment they had located her in the city. For all she knew the whole place was crawling with super adreanlized soldiers. She had nearly been overcome with just those few; she did not need to rush into a situation that was out of her control.

Max did know that Logan was hurt somehow, his pain and stress were easily detectable even before he emphasized it over the phone. It was evident that they had not been easy on him, and she hoped that he was not too badly banged up. There had been that tone about his talk that told her he was pretty bad.

He had warned her in a fashion of the ambush they had set up for her. It was obvious that he wanted her to stay away from any proximity to the penthouse. All that talk about coming over had been said in the wrong tones, no friendly greeting had been there, instead it had been a terse and clipped series of sentences. He was trying to keep her out of danger. Yet here she was... 

She edgily watched the balcony hoping for a break. Her eyes picked up the door to the terrace opening and a dark figure moving into the night. Her eyes automatically refocused bringing the figure into close up. She sucked in a breath crouching low against the building lest he spot her against the lighter building material. It was the red headed leader of the Red series. 

He looked impatient and leaned on the railing of Logan's balcony looking down at the fog below. She watched, as he stood there, stooped over the railing, his arms crossed at the wrists. There was a large dark bottle dangling in one hand and a cigarette in the other that he occasionally took a drag of. He looked from the fog below to his hands, his thumbs twiddling spasmodically as he thought. She watched the features of his face as anger, uncertainty, and confidence intermingled there. Max wondered what weighty problem the man was considering for such a wide display of vastly different emotions. As Max continued to watch, the man raised a bottle to his mouth taking a long swig, "What kind of uncultured swine is that?" She muttered. Then sucked air through her teeth, "Man I bet Logan is pissed, that's his best Pre-Pulse."

Her eyes moved to the door that he had left open. A small window of the apartment was visible from her angle, and luckily enough she could take in what she had wanted to see since perching up here…Logan. She refocused her eyes yet again taking a good look of what details she could see. Logan's face showed strain and the set of his shoulders told her that he was in a bad way. Again she wondered just what the extent of his injuries were. She watched as his head nodded sharply, causing Max to draw in a shocked breath. There was definitely something serious, he looked as if he was going into or was already suffering from shock. 

That was all that she could determine before the massive body of the remaining original Red cut off her view of the ailing Logan. Her eyes followed him as he joined the red head next to the rail. Her gaze flickered back and forth between the two Red soldiers and Logan still sitting on the couch, fighting to remain conscious.

The two started to converse and Max had to strain her hearing to the limit of her ability just to pick them out of the screaming wind. She swore under her breath, as all she was able to pick up at first was mumbles. She strained harder, cupping one hand to her ear to better direct the sound to her genetically augmented hearing. The Sound cleared up considerably and concentrating on only the voices they finally could be heard.

"I don't think that she is going to show," The taller man said. He turned his back to the rail watching Logan closely from his perch by his boss.

"Oh she'll show," The red head said, taking another drag off the cigarette, "It's all a matter of when."

The Red watched the smoke from the cigarette mingle with the wisps of fog now reaching the heights, "You think that was her then? On the phone?"

"Of course, he was warning her not to come," he said with a sly smile plastered onto his pale features.

"And you still think she'll show?" The Red crossed his arms over his chest and inclined his head toward the shorter one. It seemed that he did not have the same faith as the red head.

The red head looked back toward where Logan was, "There's something between these two."

"Is that why you stopped me?" Max's eyes narrowed, he meant from killing Logan. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest at making that connection. If she did not get there soon they were going to kill Logan, she was sure. If there was one thing the Red's were not known for was patience. She was going to have to move soon.

The shorter man just looked at the larger, snuffing his cigarette on the railing and then turned back toward the penthouse saying, "Let's get back inside."

Max watched as they returned to the security of Logan's pad and waited several more minutes, "I hope they're not watching the windows," she muttered rising.

Max checked her harness over thoroughly before donning it, it had been a while since she had been inclined to use it, and was unsure of its serviceability. When she was satisfied with it she quickly stepped into it making the clips fast. She adjusted it ensuring that it was snug, and then lay out her rope so that it would play out properly on her descent. 

Max clipped the rope to the nearest anchor on the roof before stepping to the edge. She looked out and down, judging the distance for her jump. Then she leaned over and pushed off, soaring through the night like an owl on the hunt, silently arching over Logan's roof. Timing it perfectly, Max released the rope from the harness and landed on the sloped roof with a dull thud, allowing herself to slide down to land on the terrace. She stayed there a moment crouched and scanning the area. She was unable to help grinning from ear to ear, exhilarated by the experience. That was only the third time she had done that, now she realized that she was going to have to do it more often.

Slowly she straightened extending her arms out she padded toward the doors of the balcony, utilizing as much cover as was available to her. She grit her teeth as she darted the long open space that led to the edges of the dwelling, wishing she knew where the two soldiers were located within his apartment, and wishing more that she could see them and what they might be up to. She paused next to a planting box by the door, counting out long moments. If they had seen her there should be some reaction from within the house soon. After five minutes and no activity, Max chanced to peek beyond the mirrored windows and into the interior of Logan's apartment. She shielded her eyes with one cupped hand scanning slowly over what she could see of the place. 

The soldiers were nowhere in sight, and Max let out a breath that she had not realized she had been holding. Her eyes then shifted to where Logan should be. He was looking her direction with squinted eyes. Max noted that his glasses were missing, he could tell someone was there, but his expression was not altogether focused.

"Hold on," She thought, "I'm gonna get you out of there."


	7. Savior

CHAPTER 6: Savior

Logan was only semi-conscious now, and no matter how hard he tried he could only maintain clarity of thought for mere minutes before fading into a gray zone again. Sounds intruded into that fog seemingly from a distance and distorted such that he couldn't make out what he was hearing. He wondered vaguely if he had suffered a concussion at the hands of the Tank. A faint smile graced his pallid face as that thought drifted through, it was what he had dubbed the soldier with Carrot Top. The man was unstoppable, like a Tank. He had done nothing about the bullets still in him, Logan remembered, a full clip of fifteen bullets and was still walking and talking as if it was nothing. Maybe he was wearing a bulletproof vest?

His unfocused eyes drifted toward the kitchen where the two soldiers had retired after drinking his bottle of pre pulse on the balcony. He had heard them discussing him, and Max, and how they had known that he had tried to warn her off. How they also believed that Max would come anyway. He scowled at that, hoping that Max would use her common sense for once. That damned rebellious streak of hers though, the Reds were probably right, she would probably come anyway. He wished, suddenly, that the ordeal were over with, one way or another. 

"No!" His head jerked sharply at the thought that slammed through his skull, "You're going to make it Cale," Yet, another, more sarcastic voice replied, "Yeah right."

He moved his left hand off of his right arm, as the feverish flesh became uncomfortably warm to his touch. He glanced down at his broken arm blanching again at the sight of it. His right hand was completely numb and the fingers were stiff with the swelling. A huge bruise was welling up around what had to be the point of the break. He tried to wiggle a finger, but nearly fainted from the pain of the motion. He shook his head slightly knowing that he needed medical attention soon. How soon was all up to the Reds. He shook his head and looked back at a spot on the carpet, his eyes losing focus again.

Logan felt himself drift off unable to stop the event, only to jerk awake again as his head fell sharply forward. He should put himself in a position so that going to sleep would be easy, but considering the kind of ordeal that entailed he didn't bother. If he were suffering a concussion sleeping would be the worst thing that he could do. He blinked several times again trying to focus and stay awake.

That is when he heard it, or thought he heard it... the dull thud of something landing on the roof over his dining area, followed by a sliding sound down the angle of the roof. His senses came into sharp focus at the sound of it.

Without moving his head he looked at the spot where he had last heard it, looking for movement to confirm that he was not hallucinating. He regretted again that his glasses had been destroyed, his near-sightedness was bad enough that he couldn't make out any details at the distance that the terrace was. His injury and pain was doing nothing to help matters. As he moved his eyes they began to ache in a vain effort to focus on his surroundings. The harder he stared the more his eyes ached and soon it turned into a headache that beat in time with the pounding in his arm.

His eyes finally picked up blurry motion nearer him, and closing in on the balcony door. The shape was crouched low and darting from cover to cover as if to avoid detection. His heart leapt in his chest at the sight, realizing that his savior had come.

Logan's gaze moved to the dining area, where the two Reds had been since they determined that he was no threat. Occasionally he could hear the ting of metal on wood as Carrot Top finally removed Logan's bullets from Tank's flesh and dropped them onto the expensive hardwood table. Logan wondered vaguely just how many dents he was going to have to get sanded out of the finish. He heard sizzling and smelled flesh burning as wounds were cauterized. When he was sure that they were well occupied with repairing Tank's wounds, Logan turned his attention back to the window.

Logan knew he wasn't hallucinating and figured that the crouching figure getting nearer was probably Max. He was happy to see her, and yet he was angry that she had not heeded his warning, "Damn it, I thought she had more sense than this..." 

He caught the motion again out of the corner of his eye and looked over his shoulder to find the blurry outline of Max staring at him, face plastered to the pane, and probably trying to see past the mirrored tinting. Logan glanced quickly back to the dining room, sending his head swimming, but he assured himself that Carrot Top and Tank were not returning. He looked at her shaking his head negatively and motioning discreetly toward where they had parked themselves. He then motioned to her to go away.

Max nodded understanding, and then shrugged mouthing, "How many?" At least that was what it had looked like in his distorted vision. Logan raised two fingers off his knee and tapped them down several times as if he was bored. If either of his captors were paying attention they would interpret the move as frustration or boredom.

The young Transgenic nodded again, sidestepped to the door, and quietly opened it to slip inside. She tiptoed to him crouching down and scanning the area around her looking for the two soldiers. Glancing once toward the kitchen she turned her almond eyes to Logan. She slowly took his features in, concerned with his condition at the hands of the Red's. She grimaced at the sight of his arm, for it was ugly and purple with swelling. Each of his fingers looked like short, round, and plump hot dogs and the nail beds were blue. She slowly reached over touching his arm, drawing back quickly at the heat she could feel coming off of his flesh.

Her eyes moved over him again, but the only other injury that she could see was a nasty looking cut on the left side of his nose. That side of his face was slightly swollen and an abrasion oozed where he had probably met carpet sharply. He was probably going to have a real nice shiner when all was said and done.

"What are you doing here?" Logan whispered barely audible glancing back at the kitchen again. He was at once angry and relieved to see her, "I thought you understood that I didn't want you coming here!"

"I understood alright," she confirmed not meeting his eyes, "But I'm hard headed like that," she straightened, looking down at him. He was scowling up at her, but his eyes reflected how glad he really was that she had come, "Brought you a present," She produced a pistol from the back of her pants and extended it to him, "It's all set to go... be ready."

"I thought you didn't 'do guns'," Logan said as he took it from her with his left hand. The weight of it in his hand bolstered his confidence about staying alive to see the end of this.

Max's face fell to reveal a more dour mood, "I've made a lot of exceptions to my rules today..." the mood was fleeting as she brightened again, "'Sides I'm not using it, it's for you," Before he could say anything else, she was out the door to the terrace again.

He frowned slightly as he tucked the gun into hiding, but within easy reach when he needed it. It was a choice between him and the Red's he was going to end up on the top of that list, or give it a hell of a shot in the trying. He knew, there were no "ifs" about it, the use of the gun was a matter of when. If anyone could present him with an opportunity, it would be Max.

Back outside Max skirted Logan's terrace until she was at the window beyond the kitchen. She leaned against it to see past the tinting into the room beyond. She smiled seeing the two soldiers engrossed in the removal of the bullets still in the Larger one's chest. Neither of them aware of her presence, "Well lets see what I can do to fix that," she thought. 

Smiling slyly Max rapped on the window drawing the attention of them both. By the looks on their faces she had surprised them with her miraculous appearance. They deftly jumped to their feet, turning to face her at the window. The red head yelled directions at the taller man, pushing him toward the kitchen door, "The terrace, get her, I'll keep an eye on the gimp," she heard him say. She frowned inside, what a bastard, talking about Logan like that. 

Max watched momentarily as the larger one sprinted out of the room. She stuck her tongue out at the red headed man that remained, before disappearing from his view. She moved herself to a more defensible position and waited, she may make things up as they go but she always had the plan in the back of her head. A plan was forming right now that would end this threat permanently. 

It didn't take the Red long to find her, though she was taking no pains to hide herself, "Hey, big boy," she greeted him, "Are you ready for round two?" His expression didn't change at all as he closed the gap between them, "They must disconnect their personalities at the same time as they disconnect their pain receptors," she thought. 

Max took the offensive, lashing out with a flurry of kicks, chops, and punches driving the Red back several feet. She thought she was doing very well, when he suddenly began blocking all of her throws. This drove Max back and away from her objective, frustrating her immensely. She was not given time to compensate as he stepped in and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off the ground and hurling her through the air. Her body compressed heavily as she impacted the large window behind her and then hit the deck winded. She was stunned for a moment. Shaking her head out Max looked back at the window, relieved when it showed no signs of damage. The last thing she needed was to owe Logan for another window! 

Max started to push up but the Red reached her first, grabbing her by the collar and dragging her to her feet again. She turned this to her advantage, and using his body as a springboard Max somersaulted backwards. She kicked out viciously with a foot as it came up catching the red in the chin and knocking him back several feet. Max completed the arch landing on her feet and watching the Red as he closed the distance between them again. As he neared her, she sprung away from him directing her feet up the wall, walking it horizontal to the ground until she was behind his position. He reached out to stop her, his grasping fingers just missing a hold of her jacket. She grinned at his frustrated face, and he pivoted as he tracked her motion, setting up to resume the fight when she touched the ground again. She smiled again as she understood that she was now where she wanted him to be.

Max moved in quickly taking the Red by surprise and pushed him back with the fury and swiftness of her attack. These guys were strong to be sure but they could not match her speed. The larger man made several attempts to regain the upper hand in the fight, landing some very powerful blows on her slight body. She ignored them her whole body intent on what she was doing. The Red was losing ground and coming closer to Max's objective. Suddenly she stopped her frontal assault and executed another acrobatic flip, ending up between him and the rail that guarded people from a fall. Before he could turn to face her, she had lashed her arms around his throat and shoulder. With practiced ease she hooked her feet in the supports of the rail and flipped her self, and consequently the Red, over the edge of a 35-story drop to the street below. The Red scrambled for a hold of Max realizing what she was about to do, but Max's hold on his body restricted the movement of his arms. His grasping hands met empty air. She let go of the Red, hanging upside down as she watched him fall. He did not scream as he fell, but the look of surprise and horror was easy to read on his face. 

She crossed her arms across her chest, "That's one he won't walk away from," she said triumphantly and smiling at her own ingenuity. Now there was just the Norm leader.

The night was split by a single gunshot originating from the penthouse, and instantly righted, unhooked from the balcony rail, and sprinted toward the terrace door. She stopped abruptly at the scene that greeted her eyes. Logan sat at the couch his body limp and his head slumped forward on to his chest. He didn't look to be breathing. Of the leader of the Reds she saw nothing. There was a sinking feeling in her gut, and she tried to breathe. 

"No," Max whispered. Her mind automatically jumped to the worst of the conclusions that she could make. In her mind it all played out for her, almost as if she had actually witnessed it.

The red head had seen that his soldier was losing, had seen him go over the edge. In a fit of rage he had decided to take away Max's reason for returning, to see her comrade safe. Then the Red leader had fled fearful of the repercussions if Max had caught up with him. If Logan was dead than all her efforts here tonight had availed her nothing. She would again be responsible for something that had happened to her benefactor. A part of her refused to believe it was true, and the two differing opinions warred inside her until her stomach filled with anxious butterflies.

Slowly and fearfully she moved closer to Logan's still form. From the side she could see that there was blood splatter on him, and it confirmed her worst fear. She rushed the last few feet stopping dead as she nearly tripped on the body at Logan's feet. It was the Red leader, his lifeless eyes reflecting the surprise at his own demise. His hand was still on the couch and she could see now the streaked finger marks on the expensive material. One strengthless hand held a large caliber pistol, the arm that held it was pinned under the body and the gun lay next to his nose. Next to the body was the pistol that she had provided Logan with. She crouched down touching looking Logan over closely, trying to determine whether he had become a victim, or had survived. There was a large stain of blood on Logan's clothes just above the belt line, and Max worried that it had been a double shooting, that the Red had gotten Logan at the same time he had shot the man. She reached over with shaking hands toward that stain, intent on disproving that theory. 

There was no hole in the shirt that she could find, but before she could be relieved about the discovery Logan's body spasmed in reaction to her touch. Max jerked back, startled by the reaction, and nearly fell over the body just behind her heels. When she could finally breathe again, she leaned closer to Logan's face. Relief hit her like a physical thing when his head raised up in short jerky motions until his eyes finally met her own. Max smiled ignoring the tears that had welled into her eyes and reached out a hand to his face. Logan said nothing for long moments just staring at her in a bleary way. He looked weary and pain wracked and a resignation had settled onto his feature that looked as if it would be there permanently.

Her eyes searched his slightly swollen face, "You OK?"

He nodded, blinking slowly. He reached his good hand out and touched her face, seeming to want to say something, but no words came out. He seemed to think better of it and nodded allowing his hand to drop from her face. He looked away from her then his movements unsteady.

Uncertainly Max stood up stuffing her hands into her back pockets, "We need to get you an ambulance," she said to cover the sudden awkwardness.

In true Max fashion she dialed 911, said a quick goodbye and left the apartment, not needing to get involved in the investigation that would surely follow two dead bodies and an obvious assault on Logan's person, and property. Logan nodded again to himself, understanding the aloofness that came with a life on the run. He had wanted her to stay, he had wanted to thank her, tell her just how much it had meant that she had come for him. The moment had proved too awkward however, to many doubts fogged his already pain addled mind. He had let her go, leaving the words unsaid, knowing that there would be another time, a better time to make his feelings known. But would there be a better time? 

Max stayed close-by after leaving Logan's side, watching discreetly from a distance to make certain that Logan's ordeal was over, that no more reinforcing Reds appeared, and that he received what help he needed. When the police and the ambulance had come, she just as discreetly faded into the background. 

She had wanted to stay with him, be there until the ambulance came to be sure that he was going to make it, but she could not find herself involved in that kind of attention. Sighing Max moved off down the street, feeling oddly good about her deeds this night, even if no one but her and Logan would ever know the truth about it.


	8. Finnagen Begin Again

Well here it is, the final chapter of my very first fanfic(Rewritten for your pleasure!)…thank you again to everyone out there who reviewed and wrote me personally to tell me how much they liked this fic (S1 fans unite!). It has been a great boost to my morale to receive such a hands down positive response! Thank you all! You are the best!

Darwin

EPILOGUE: Finnagen begin again.(Two weeks later)

The day was bright and sunny outside Logan's window, though the chill of winter was still in the air, or so he had been told. Logan sat quietly watching the clouds pass in wispy parades of white, without really seeing them. The sun through the windows fell warm across his carpet, and across him, warming bones still chilly from his stay at the hospital. He stared unseeing at the towers surrounding his own, thinking about events that had happened in the past several weeks. He thought about what had been said, and all the things that should have been said instead. He was still kicking himself for not telling Max how he actually felt. That had always been his problem hadn't it? He had been this way ever since his ex wife had shattered his heart.

All tolled the damage had come to a whopping $10,000 to replace or fix what Carrot Top and Tank had wrecked during their several hour stay in his apartment. That was a big ding, luckily he had the finances to pay for such an unexpected expense. The door had been replaced the day after the investigation was finished, Bling getting the job done in anticipation of Logan's wishes. Logan was beginning to think the man could read minds. The rest of his equipment had arrived this morning, and he realized that the network would be up and running again very soon.

Logan focused his hearing listening to Bling in the background unpacking the new equipment and setting it up. It was state of the art equipment, as always, and it probably cost Logan twice what it should have. But he wanted the best system and he wanted it now. His job as Eyes Only required a higher standard, it was the only way that he was going to keep unwanted hackers out of his system, and more importantly to keep from being traced during the broadcasts. 

Logan had driven Bling crazy with insisting on setting everything just so within the study. In a moment of frustration with his boss, Bling had parked Logan out of the way like a kid in time-out. At least that is what it felt like to Logan, so yes he could definitely say that he was pouting. Bling had parked his chair near the window but not so near it that his vertigo would get the better of him. He was now out of the way, frustrated and anxious about just what Bling was doing with all of his equipment. Bling had calmly told him that if he didn't like the set up, he could change it himself when he was more able, until then he would use it where it was put. Logan shook his head, Bling knew what the study had been set up like, he'd get it right, he always did.

Bling had been severely distressed to find Logan's apartment in shambles and Logan absent. He too had come to the worst conclusion possible, and Max had to explain what had transpired there, while Logan was recovering at the hospital. Bling had felt so responsible for the incident that it took Logan two days to convince the man that he could do with some time alone. It almost came down to firing him, he was so insistent on staying close-by. Logan grinned crookedly to no one, unsure that even that drastic measure would have made Bling leave.

Logan could still remember the aftermath of his incarceration quite vividly despite his waning consciousness. There had been a crowd of his neighbors clogging the foyer looking thunderstruck at the devastation in his home. The were looking at his beaten face like he had been some kind of freak show brought there for their amusement. There were cops swarming over his apartment looking for clues as to why the strangers trying to get a hold of Max, had been there. He remembered Matt's face swimming into his blurry vision concern and fear clear to read on his face. He knew the implications of what had happened, more than the rest of the Cops here. He knew Logan was connected with Eyes Only, and figured it had been an attempt to get EO's identity out of Logan. 

"If only he knew," Logan scoffed.

Logan knew that Matt had been full of question, but had admirably refrained from bombarding him until after he had been taken to the hospital. Matt seemed to realize that Logan was not up to the line of questioning Matt had for him. Matt had returned to interview Logan after his observation, and when the doctors had cleared Logan as lucid. 

Logan had to do a lot of editing to keep Max out of the limelight when it came to how events had gone down. Most of the story was told just as it had happened, how they had blown up his door, how they had cornered and assaulted him. He had been forced by necessity to feed Matt a line about the reason for the two infiltrating his place. It was simple enough, for it was one that supported what Matt was already thinking had happened. It was a more interesting story as he tried to find a reasonable explanation for the demise of his two, obviously stronger and larger, captors. How did he, by himself mind you, to kill the two in self-defense? Matt had looked at him strangely during several points of the conversation, especially his wild story about how the Red had ended up "falling" from the terrace roof. Logan maintained the serious look of honesty on his face, his eyes not leaving Matt's face. There was doubt to be read on the Investigator's face, but finally Matt took him at his word, understanding that it was not entirely the truth, but that Logan would tell him nothing else.

Logan spent several days at the hospital, the first to observe him. A concussion had been suffered, just as Logan had feared, and he found himself glad that his uncomfortable position on the couch had kept him awake. The next several were spent assessing his other injury. Both bones in Logan's right forearm were fractured and the doctors had to wait for the swelling to subside before they could cast it. In the meantime they had splinted it, slung his arm and sent him home. Just yesterday he had been taken back so that the cast could be put on. Logan looked down again at his right arm, now covered in a freshly white plaster cast, that immobilized it up to just under his armpit. No one had even had the time to sign it. There was going to be another six weeks before he could get back out of it. That was if everything went well.

Logan had looked in a mirror and was unable to recognize his own face as swollen as it was. His left eye socket was black edged with a sickly yellow where it had begun to heal. It was itching like mad, though it hurt to scratch which made it even more maddening. Several corpuscles in that eye had burst well making the whites of his eye red. The cut on his nose had required four stitches to close up. He still couldn't wear his glasses without bandaging his nose first, even then it was painful and he hadn't bothered in nearly three days. It wasn't as if he was able to do any work anyway.

Logan looked again at his neatly cast arm, sighing heavily as frustration built in him again. That was what he needed, another bump in his road to mobility. The cast made it impossible to use his right to aid him in moving the chair around his penthouse. He was not practiced enough to push himself around single-handed and not go around in circles. It had never occurred to him that a time would come where the skill would come in handy. The handicap equated to a further dependence on others to move through his daily routine. No one complained about it, but it only bruised Logan's pride that much more. He was unable to even shift himself out of the chair, so if he wanted to go to bed, or sit on the sofa rather than in the chair he was calling on Bling to help him. He couldn't even shower without assistance from someone, and if that wasn't degrading he did not know what was. His ears burned at the thought of his increased dependence on Bling. That pride in him made him feel as if he was imposing his will on the man. There were many nights he slept in his chair, not wanting to bother Bling with something that he had always been able to do himself. He had always paid for those in cramped neck muscles and lack of sound sleep. He had finally just given in, swallowing his pride…asking and accepting help as it was given him.

He heard soft footsteps coming up behind him and turned the chair around to face the intruder on his melancholy mood. He made it look graceful, for which he was thankful, especially considering his visitor. Max stopped just a few feet from him, and Logan made a try at a smile, "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," Max replied more brightly, "How's the arm?"

Logan looked down and then back up at her, "Still hurts," He shrugged, "I guess it could be worse... he could have ripped it off," He replied in a bad try at humor. His mood was too low to make it come off.

Max grimaced, then looked over to where Bling was working on his study, "I see you got your stuff replaced. The new door is nice."

"Thanks," Logan said scratching his head, "Yeah, good news is that I was able to recover most of the database. All of my contacts are still intact, but some of the working files were lost, I have to start those again from scratch. The real bad news, however is that Eyes Only won't be back on the air for another couple weeks. Not with a face like this," Logan looked away again, "That ought to make a lot of crooks happy."

"Sorry," she said simply, "Guess they'll really be surprised when you pop back on the air again still kickin' out the truth then won't it." She said trying to cheer him up.

The expression on his face had not lightened one bit. Suddenly, Logan looked away, "Max?" He asked returning his gaze to her face, "Why are you still in Seattle?"

"What?" She asked half amused and half-incredulous, "Where'd that come from?"

"It's because of me isn't it?" He asked, then continued before she could even formulate a response so surprised by this line of questioning, "You shouldn't, you know…stay I mean, not for me. I've been thinking," He was nodding but avoiding her eyes, "A lot about this... Zach was right. I pose a serious threat to your safety. I am a liability..." He finally met her eyes again, and Max saw pain there. He was not happy about the words he was saying to her, but he felt required to, because it was the right thing, "There are going to be more 'Reds' in the future..." He said this as if it was a prediction, "And I... I don't want to be used as leverage against you... ever again." 

He paused and then laughed humorlessly, "Funny... me agreeing with Zach."

Max slowly settled onto the arm of the couch next to him. She saw the hurt in his eyes, "Logan..." she started hearing her own voice rich with emotion, she paused and then licked her lips, "Remember what I told you when I hooked up with Zach?" Logan nodded slightly. Max repeated herself to emphasize her point, "I said that it wasn't what I had thought it was going to be," Again Logan acknowledged her words. Max went on, "I told you that I wanted to find the others because I wanted someone I could connect with, someone who would understand." Max looked away this time, "I didn't realize it then... But I had already found that someone... I had found an equal..." she reached out and touched his cheek gently, locking her almond brown eyes on his face, "And I found that I couldn't leave. I wouldn't leave you, Logan. I need you, whether you realize it or not, I do."

"You're sure?" Logan asked breathlessly, "I don't want to slow you down."

Max leaned over and kissed him gently for a moment. She broke the contact looking into his expressive blue eyes, now filled with hope and longing, breathing, "I'm sure."


End file.
